“I don’t trust the ink,” Leia muttered, holding the ledger page to the moonlight. “Look—half the seal’s vanished.”
Iris peered closer. “It’s been tampered with. Someone poisoned the parchment.”
Leia’s jaw clenched. “Torin.”
“If this doesn’t hold up in council, we’re dead.”
Leia shoved the scroll into her cloak. “Then we need the scribe. The boy who handled Torin’s accounts. He copied the ledgers by hand.”
“He’ll never talk.”
“Then we make him too scared not to.”
---
That night, under a blood-tinged moon, Leia slipped through the rear gates of Torin’s estate.
Iris followed close behind, dusting froststeel powder across the stone path. It shimmered faintly—enough to disable the hounds guarding the scribe’s quarters.
“You’ve done this before,” Iris muttered.
Leia flashed a grim smile. “When survival requires it, you learn fast.”
Inside the stone hall, the junior scribe trembled behind his desk. Parchments fluttered as he backed away from them.